


One Step At A Time

by PandaButtox



Category: CW The 100, Clarke Griffin - Fandom, The 100, clexa - Fandom, commander lexa - Fandom
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-18
Updated: 2016-01-09
Packaged: 2018-04-21 09:42:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4824155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PandaButtox/pseuds/PandaButtox
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Starts after the destruction of Mount Weather in the final of S2. Opens up from the steps Clarke Griffin took away from her people, heading into the woods to face the unknown.  This is my story on Clarke's path and those who follow her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

#                     NO ONE IS COMING. NO ONE IS GOING TO FOLLOW YOU.

 

Clarke’s leg shook from a mixture of fatigue and shock. The actions that she had taken at mount weather had left a deep cut in her mind. Mental terror added to the steel weight of her limbs, making it barely possible for her to take the first few steps away from Bellamy. Somehow, she achieved it, her feet stumbling on the uneven land as she headed towards the thick trees surrounding Camp Jaha. She felt the older boy, standing behind her, as if he was trying to decide if he should follow her or head towards the steel prison from the sky? There was no denying, part of Clarke wanted to turn round, ask him to support her again, but her head ached with the memories. With a look to the sky, she followed Lexa’s example. She refused to look back. If this was how Lexa, who slaughtered for her people, dealt with the pain. It should be sufficient enough for her.

The light began to slowly fade, bringing a further gloom to her spirit. Ragged gasps echoed in her ears as she sucked in oxygen with a faint hope that it would cleanse her soul. Gulping in an icy gush, it hooked its claws into her impeccably dry throat. Licks from its icy nails squeezed out air, leaving her coughing and staggering in a frantic attempt to regain some control over her body. Roughly hacking, Clarke was blinded by growing spots across her vision. In an urgent attempt to regain her slipping balance, she wildly swung her arms around. With a thud her forearm collided against a nearby tree, the metal gun flying to the ground. Her resilient was as broken as her grip on the gun. Knees buckling under her body as a peril ridden scream ripped out of her throat. It rang on long after Clarke had bent her head back and fell to the damp earth beneath her.

How many people had she killed? From the place on the ground, in the middle of the forest, she blinked up into the ink black sky. The star seemed to have vanished, too precious to have a murder’s eyes upon them, “How many people?” She whispered to make sure she was awake. Clarke would have wished for it all to be a dream, for her to be shaken awake by father. Instead of stars to scream wishes at, she got the thick scent of burning flesh. It seemed like years ago that she first smelled the smell of flesh mixed with acid, but his death was as strong as the others. The worst part of it was that she wasn’t aware of his name until she driven the knife into her throat. It was quick, a medical death, acted out due to kindness. Not only was it for the badly effected Atom, but also for Bellamy. She squeezed her eyes shut trying, as she gritted her teeth together, to force her mind away from the hundreds that she caused to have the same pain. Another would have rationalized it, let the blame fall on the dead in the mountain, but she couldn’t. She knew, even if Bellamy hadn’t helped her hand move across the leaver. She would have done it alone.

At some point, as she remembered the screams of grounders, she must have fallen into a hollow sleep; as the next time she fluttered her eyes open the sky was blue. Rubbing her hands against her face, she found it to be wet to touch and her hands numb. As she went to move her limbs, they refused to cooperate. They stayed stiff and frozen, a chill settling in from being exposed to the elements. Without any food or water she would decline within a matter of days—that was if the elements or animal didn’t get to her first. Yet, Clarke couldn’t seem to care. Dragging her body on all fours through the clart, she strained to push herself up.  Winded by the simple exertion, she pulled the borrowed jacket closer around her limbs. “I bare it.” Clarke spat to herself, as her eyes caught on an object lurking to her left. Spinning instinctively around, she was met with nothing. She saw nothing. Not even the signs of an animal. Blinking, she tried to focus further on the trees, but the motion had taken too much energy. “I bare it.” She repeated firmer to herself, as she grabbed the gun from its place and pushed her screaming muscles to take her weight.

She had no strategic plan, she wasn’t heading anywhere. She wanted to walk until she didn’t fear the look in Jasper’s brown eyes that screamed murderer. Now, she had successfully killed two of her friend’s lovers.  Narrowing her eyes, she dragged her body further through the forest. Every so often she would stumble, fall to the leave covered floor, but still she could hear the screams of the dead.   Lying on the floor, her stomach groaning in desperate need, she let her head fall to the soil. “I bare it.” She breathed into the earth, the odour of the soil thick in her nostrils.

She lost track of time, the days, the minutes, the only thing that kept her aware of her surroundings was the burning pain of the blisters forming all over her foot. She couldn’t quiet deduct if it was sweat, blood, or mixture of both that had her feet wet. Staring ahead, her eyes dark in color, were red with irritation from the lack of sleep. Her body was slimming at a steady pace and so far she had not passed water. A branch broke behind her, but this time her motions were slow, turning to be greeted with the empty wood. As she arched her head back to the trees ahead of her, she would have spat, if her body would have allowed it. A figure stood lingering behind a tree, “I can see you.” She coughed, but the figure seemed to hear her.

 With two strong steps, Maya walked out from behind the tree, her head tilted to one side, “No one is coming for you.”  The girl sniggered, of course it was Maya’s face, it was the only one she had seen long enough to recreate.  “Go away.” She waved the gun at the crafted phantom. Yet, the character repeated her words, moving her hand up to her own neck with the make shift blade Clarke had first threatened the girl with. “No one is coming for you, Clarke.” She whispered, this was it, she thought to herself; Where she would be forced to watch Maya slice her skin as she would have personally done. No, instead the blade was no more and the girl was lunging for her throat. Raising her arms, just in time, Clarke’s hands managed to grip the fur neck of the large wolf who was snarling above her, snapping its teeth as drool ran down  to fall into her face. 

                                                                                                                              

* * *

 

 

Indra pushed through the tent opening looking at the young woman, who was collecting belonging from the tent she had yet to pack up. “Commander, no one is going to follow you.”   Lexa looked up, nodding once, “It was not my intention to bring anyone.”  It was Lexa’s intent to end the conversation, there was no need to partake in explaining her motives for heading towards the Skaikru camp. She wished not to engage with them, simply watch from afar like she had done many moons ago. “This is—“ Lexa shot Indra a look,  a silent warning, forcing the warrior to move her mouth over unsaid words. The woman always stepped over the line, but she thought it was due to her being a mothering figure. She had been the same with Octavia, the girl she had adopted as her second, but there were rules that needed to be obeyed.  “I am going to **see** for myself.” She responded simply, hearing the response, “As you wish.”, still laced with doubt.  She quickly finished collecting her items and turned to look directly at the warrior, “My people look to me to claim her as a God or Omen. I cannot do that without personal confirmation. Then I will speak of our victory at the capital.”   The woman nodded back to her, exiting the tent without further discussion.  There had been rumours starting, she had heard them herself from the boat people and her own camp.  Clarke was the one that her people wanted ruling the Skaikru, Clarke was the one they wanted to restart an alliance with. Fear was spreading, but not a fear that led her people to believe Clarke was a monster.  The blonde was becoming as legendary as herself, at the mountain she had proven herself victorious on her own, but she had also shown that she would be a dangerous enemy to hold. All those warriors she had sent to destroy her, they had failed, burned by strategy rather than the hilt of a blade.  Clarke was …Impressive.   

 

 

 


	2. WE CAN ALL FALL DOWN.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lexa begins her search for Clarke, but she isn't the only one missing blonde hair and a guiding hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, i read your comments. You people were really nice! Like, super dooper nice. I want Clarke to rebel in her unhinging, fall into it, become something else then come out at the end. And I do love writing Clarke, everything about her is interesting, but here is some Lexa. :)

**WE CAN ALL FALL DOWN.**

Swinging the forged steel into the decorative patterned scabbed at her back, she let the weight of the blade reassure her of its ancient power. Not only did she have an immense blade to accompany her skills, but with it she commanded and claimed victories in her peoples’ name. The Saikru’s may look down on their young, but she was not of their blood and she held an army who was ready to lift her up with their battle cries.   She forced her lips, which had quirked up, back down into an emotionless line. Slight fear, that someone may have witnessed a crack in her shield, tickled at her skin.  With searching eyes she swiftly checked the faces of the unaware workers. Coming up without significant sign that they had noticed the small smile that she had stolen for herself, she methodically went back to checking her weapons; feeling with her limbs to assure her daggers were attached in various places. Content with the knowledge that she was equipped with enough steel, Lexa began to move towards her horse.  Her weather beaten hands grasped the cold leather of the reigns, gracefully lifting her limbs into the high position. The silk black horse was steady as Lexa, his master, shifted to strap the travel satchel to the saddle. With a clean face, to any assassin, she would look more like a tracker than Heda of the Trikru. However, this particular journey held no reason for her to wear war paint. Clarke was a battle, but one she could not scare with strong strokes of black.

The seasons were entering those filled with rain, the evidence in the wet soil that was being churned to mud under the hooves of the roaring beast.  She preferred the rainy seasons, but rumours whispered that Lexa was born from the wet earth, and survived as wolves would against the harsh down pours. If you claim the tales as truth, it was only fitting that the feeling of the rain beating against her skin and the rich damp smell of leaves comforted her.  Even sat on her horse, her limbs grew restless.  She was so desperate, she found herself dreaming, of becoming one with the earth, of running through the clart and sleeping in the elements. Slowing her horse to a trot, her muscles tensed at the sound of sudden sharp crack. Jerking her head in the direction of the noise, she picked up traces of a following guard who had denied her direct orders. Rolling her eyes, she let out a tired breath and only just resisted the urge to pinch the bridge of her nose. She was Heda, she had to resist the feeling of being suffocated by a warrior, whom was only doing what they sensed was their duty. Lexa had been born in these woods, granting her with vast knowledge of every stick and stone on this route.  She couldn’t help but feel like this was a wasted trip for, the undoubtedly, fresh faced warrior. Pushing her hidden companion from mind, she hummed low to calm herself as she rode. There was no need for her own emotions to spook her horse, Bile, or for the warrior to learn more than necessary about her.

As she slipped to the ground she held herself low, moving through the trees in fluid motions. Her body almost drifted, through the thinning trees, closer to the camp. She could hear them already, clattering like children against every surface, and ‘causing, in Lexa’s mind, an insane volume of noise. If there were any bears in these woods (she imagined there was) they would already be turning their heavy paws towards that high wired fence.  As she neared the clearing of the woods, her eyes turned to a mossy shade of green. Her vision drunk in the details that made up the alien camp structure. They had clearly developed since her last visit. There was evidence that they had been dragging parts of the structure from other areas, building metal upon metal in the middle of the vast foliage.  It disgusted her to the point of muttering her disproval and shaking her head in rage. They appeared, ever since falling from the sky, to be only able to destroy that around them. Lexa was not thinking of destruction of battle, but rather the harmony of the woods.  Almost in a way of drawing comfort, she pressed her body closer to the bark of a large tree. Desperate for a better view of the area, to find Clarke and be rid of the place, Lexa extended her body up. With one quick bend of her knees, she leaped up, grasping one of the low protruding branches of the tree.  
  
It took her a matter of seconds to pull herself into a comfortable position. “Clarke, where are you?” She asked softly to the damp air, intently watching as numerous people flooded back and forth to the central building.  She slowly took in the motions of the Saikru, picking Abby out with ease. The woman held a deliberate, somewhat annoying, air about her, as she demanded her people to continue building. It reminded Lexa of an old warrior, whom was desperate to cling to power and threats that they no longer possessed. The smell of an uprising was growing, yet the guards of the camp were blinded of the rebels within. It seemed obvious, even from Lexa’s distant observation, that people were growing tired with Abby’s rule.  Yet, these guards of hers could not see the weak points within their cage.  Similar to the Camp in front of her she could feel her own impatience building and with it a childish anger burning through her limbs.  The lack of the blonde’s appearance was not something she had predicted. Cursing roughly she spat at the leaves and forced herself to settle.  She wanted this to be a simple venture, certainly not one that required a confrontation with these fools.  
  
As the leaves had begun creeping into their rusty colours, they brought a cold chill to the nights. Forcing, even Lexa, to act in maintaining her body heat. Not wishing to spend her night on the dirt, close to predators, she stayed in the tree, limbs curled tight, as she dug out the satchel that held dried meat and bread.  Abby had even relented screeching ignored orders, letting the members of camp set up fires and disperse cups of steam igniting liquid. Lexa was curious to find out if the liquid was similar to her own people’s tea or if it was something else that pushed their worlds further apart? The numbers outside slowly decreasing as the night grew on, the Skaikru moved in packs to their shelters. It was only when they went to their allocated resting place that Lexa realized their numbers had grown. With this, the possibility of picking Clarke out from the crowed grew less possible. Sucking in air, she tried to accumulate a plan to track the girl down.  It would be nearly impossible to break into the camp, especially not knowing the extent of power the fence held. It shot a demonic force out, as if it was alive with the electric serpents of the sea.  However, they could not live indefinitely within their walls. It would be best for her to corner a forager, and if she had to, she would rip the knowledge from their lungs. Settling back, she let herself fall into a light sleep filled with blonde hair.

* * *

 

The sun had risen in her favour, bringing Bellamy to the near trees.  He was as loud as the others, if not more so, as he shuffled through the branches with heavy limbs. Lexa could not fathom why Clarke had a soft spot for this warrior, he had no notable skill and his bravery was due to his misplaced confidence. She knew she was judging harshly, but if she could choose her own people and was going to pick a guard for Clarke, it would have been Octavia.   It was shocking knowledge that the bold girl was sister to the male that was stumbling meters away. One needed orders and the other found the forests guidance. There was no two kin, whom she knew of, so different.  
  
If this was her people, if Bellamy was under her protection, Lexa would have been hard on them. They would not survive by attracting the beasts of the land to them, with large fires, heavy boots and an unnecessary noise.  The fact they had survived this long was a miracle. Tilting her head down, she knew the answer to why they had. They spilled blood, not wanting or striving for a harmonic peace between the woods and themselves. They may find the clans ways barbaric, but the clans knew their place, they had found their harmony with the woods. These people soaked the earth with the blood of innocents, for a leader who was blind of her inside enemies. Clarke was the rightful leader here. Abby was disrespecting that by play acting. Letting the dark haired man stroll further away from the camp, she jumped from her perch without electing a single sound. Behind him, she moved on her toes with impeccable balance and grace. Using his body to stay out of his field of vision, Lexa had him cornered from behind.  Positioning herself, she moved low, her leg promptly sweeping the weight from under him.  Bellamy tumbled hard, his limbs jolting in every direction, as he collided with the soil and let out a pitiful whelp.  “You are weak.” Lexa growled, not out of aggression, but disappointment. Taking a step back, she let him have some room, but was instantly aware that the boy was scrambling at his belt for a metal gun.  Narrowing her eyes, she shook her head, kicking the weapon from his grasp, “I mean not to hurt you, Bellamy of the Skaikru.” Bellamy clearly wasn’t in the mood to listen, spitting as he lunged-- with a similar resilience that his sister possessed-- towards her. She dodged him with a simple step to the left, growing tired at his feeble attempts.  
  
Bunching his fist up, he shook his head, “You shouldn’t have left them. You’re the reason.” He grunted out, running towards her again. Lexa could not humour his attempts any longer. Those words cut deeper than she would let her demeanour show. **‘You’re the reason’** could have meant anything, but having slept in a tree her mind was leaping to worst conclusions. With the fear for Clarke’s safety heavy in her heart, she ground her teeth together as her short temper boiled over. Quickly swallowing the hard lump, she snatched the dagger from her leg.  With the same strong motion, she drew her leg behind his body and forced him hard against the tree. Elbow pinning him down, she raised the knife up to his throat.  “Stop op. “She growled back, needing to obtain the information she was desperate to uncover, “Where is Clarke?” She roared her jaw locking back down into a strong line.

 “Why do you care?”  Bellamy said in a defeated tone, sagging against the tree as he gave up trying to attempting to hold his body up.

Lexa’s brows dropped down as her eyes darkened further with rage, “Tell me.” She responded, pushing the cool steel of the blade closer to his stubble ridden neck. He seemed older now, no longer cutting close to his skin to rid him of facial hair. He now wore the messy stubble with dishevelled manner, but Lexa couldn’t concentrate on his features as her nose twitched. There was a foul stench of liquor attached to his garments and breath. Being close enough to peer into his soul, she could see how blood shoot his eyes were.  It didn’t take the most intelligent person to deduct that the battle inside of the mountain must have haunted him, “Speak of Clarke.” She pressed on as the weight of his spoken words he had spoken grew heavier, “Is she dead?” Her voice cracked on the word, while her heart plummeted to the bottom of her stomach. If her words were truth everything seemed pointless, her hand relaxed on the blade keeping her eyes locked on Bellamy’s.

It no longer seemed important to hold him captive and bleed information from him. Clarke was no longer. Her absent mind must have been the reason she didn’t hear the approaching party, as the first thing she noticed was the feeling of the cold gun pressed against her temple. “Damn witch.  Bellamy, you got to be more careful with these sneaky bitches.” A panting breath grunted from the other side of the gun.  From the shifting of the earth, she could feel the looming size of the man behind her. The gun was icy against her flushed skin, holding the cruel possibility of death in its barrel. She stole herself for a minute, wondering if it would be that easy to join Clarke? But no, just because Clarke soul had moved did not mean hers could join it. Jolting her brain back into the moment, she flicked her dark green to the brown in front of her. In his pupils she could see the Bellamy’s own fear, whoever it was behind her, was not a friend of his. Looking quizzically at the male, she knew he was not a threat, nor had he been to begin with. Raising her arms above her head she slowly turned. As she moved on the spot, she could see familiar figures in the distance. Octavia and Lincoln running at a high speeds towards them. 

The being behind her was a great hulking whale of a man, giant but with no area for strength.  He gave her sinister grimace, cutting another wave of harsh lines into the ones already moulding his face. Accompanied by a deep hideous scar running down the side of his face, he was one of the most demonic looking people she had ever gazed upon.  The gun, however, was still the only item that drew caution from Lexa. She had seen the power that the metal item held, understanding that even those who were not granted with the skills of combat could murder without a second thought. It was too easy to destroy like that, without weighing the consequences in your limbs. Sweat beads ran down the enemy’s face as he assessed her with disgust filled eyes.  Slowly, with great strain, he peeked over his shoulder to inspect Octavia’s shouts. “Great, here comes the whore and her dog.” He said with the same childish bitterness. The two men by his side grunted in approval, increased Lexa’s unwillingness to include Lincoln and Octavia.

As soon as the man’s eyes were directed elsewhere, leaving the gun to hang limp by his side an arrow shot out from the trees. With a pop it imbedded itself deep in the man’s knee. Not even having time to silently thank the person following her, Lexa’s instincts kicked in.  Sweeping the man’s other leg with a sharp kick, forcing his weight to embed the arrow deeper into the bone. As she lunged forward, her ears were greeted with the mixed sound of crunching and agony filled wails. Used to the sound of battle, she didn’t blink as she sliced into the pressure points of the huge man’s friends. Agony ridden screams joined the air, as Lexa was freed from danger.    There was no need to kill her assailants, leaving them as a silent sorry in the memory of Clarke’s soul as she sprinted into the safety of the forest.

She could hear someone storming after her, hitting every tree, log and stone in their path.  If another moment passed, they may have been shot down by a protective arrow. Curiosity got the best of her, spinning round she let out a wild animal type hiss as she noticed the pursuer.  
  
Bellamy was attempting with all his energy to keep with her, as she stopped running he doubled over wheezing. Lexa regarded him, holding her hand up to halt any possible arrows. After a silence that cut through Lexa’s patience like a freshly sharpened blade, he spoke, “If you’re going to look for Clarke I am coming.”

With a racing heart and wide eyes she took a confused step towards him, “She did not fall at the mountain?”

It only took one shake of Bellamy’s head to ignite the roaring flames in the pit of her stomach. 

 


	3. Sharp Bites AND Trio Fights.

# Sharp Bites And Trio Fights

 

Lexa leaned against the tree, her eyes scanning over the blundering man who was making more noise than a stampede of buffalo. Her hands, which were in tight fists by her side, itched to pinch the bridge of her nose. Lexa could feel her emotions, tightening her muscles, pleading for her to act like a child.   
  
/  
  
It seemed as if hours had passed since she had sent the young warrior to silently collect supplies. Although she had begun the day resenting the silent follower, Drustan was presenting himself as a necessary companion.  Not only had Drustan aided her helped her with the sky people, and gathered her horse, but he had also followed her orders without question; something Bellamy had refused to do, mindlessly spitting words at her as she spoke in Trigedasleng.

Still under the influence of liquor, Bellamy was lurching side to side, using branches to keep him on his feet. His inability to form a straight line made Lexa begin to doubt her decision to allow him to accompany her on this search. Their people were tense enough without adding a damaging sky person with a gun to the mix.  There were moments when she thought he was trying to force himself out of the numbing cloud that had gathered over his head, but each time he slipped his fingers into his jacket pocket and dug out a metal canteen.  

Slowly closing her eyes, Lexa tried to ignore the noise of Bellamy focusing her senses on potential threats.  A large thud accompanied by a whining grumble, forced her eye to flick open, trail across the earth, and focus on the man who had come to be lying flat out on his back. “You are too loud.” She said in an icy tone, while taking two large steps towards the heap. Stood hovering over him, she took a moment, assessing his condition, before scooping the metal flask from the ground.

The motion seemed to spur a renewed energy in the man as he flung himself towards her. It was easily deflected with impeccable reflexes, but that didn’t mean she was going to forget his second attempt to assault her. “It would be wise if you stop.” She responded, eyes on the man as his chest heaved, “You either come to find Clarke or go back to drink.” In a motion that oozed entitlement, Lexa lifted her head, directing her chin towards Camp Jaha.

Spinning slowly on her toes, she unscrewed the canteen and took a deep sniff of the liquid.  The smell was foul, a thick pungent odour, that forced her features to mimic her internal disgust. It amazed her how the Sky People could drink such a liquid. Yet Lexa couldn’t deny that she was tempted to taste it, especially holding such vivid memories of how Clarke had managed to fearlessly gulp down the same liquid.  

The sound of hooves against earth pulled her from one of her most cherished memories—then again, all memories of Clarke were cherished.  Tossing the liquid into the bushes she went to greet the young warrior.

 

/

 

They had been riding for hours, heading towards the setting sun, without finding any tracks to establish the path that Clarke had went. Drustan, whose eyes were filled with a nervous energy, had been consistently eyeing Bellamy through the journey. Though her people were quiet, she could hear the loud sound of his thoughts, echoing against each other. People were like gears in a larger mechanism. To Lexa they acted and thought in a very predictable way.   

She had witnessed the type of look that Drustan was directing towards Bellamy, in many of her people. It was the bewildering fear that they all held for the ‘impossible’ sky people. Coupled with the rumours of Clarke, she knew that Drustan was not going to be immune to fear induced behaviour.  “Drustan.” She spoke in a calm manner, ensuring that she was speaking in Trigedasleng. “A warrior does not fall prey to their emotions.”

His youth filled brown eyes flicked back to her, while his entire body rested back onto the saddle. “Yes, Heda.” He responded, obviously forcing his eyes towards the colours of the setting sun.

As if the conversations had an open invitation for Bellamy to participate, he raised his swinging head towards them. “Are you asking him why he brought an extra set of clothes?’ Cause unless their smaller than these, it is just wasting room.” Lexa clicked her tongue, watching Bellamy tugging the loose-fitting clothes of the Trikru, “They are for Clarke. “She took a long moment, noticing he was still sore headed from the liquor, but no longer intoxicated. “There is a bounty on your people. It is best you blend in.”

Bellamy, even in his rough state, frowned, “Who put a bounty on us?  Why is there a bounty on us? If I remember correctly--and I do-- you left us at the mountain. ” Lexa heard Bellamy’s horse speed up as Drustan laughed at his questions.   As they advanced into the thicker foliage of the woods, she allowed herself to roll her eyes, “I put a bounty on you and your people. As for why, that question is a mindless one. The reason why you have a bounty on your head is because followers without a leader get lost. Do I have to remind you of what happened to my village? Without Clarke your people are weak, wild, and with no regard for life.” Glancing quickly at Bellamy, she noticed his mouth open and shut before letting himself sulk back down into silence.   Supressing her own smirk, she looked towards the ground and suddenly halted the horse.

“Drustan.” She declared quickly, sliding down from the horse and pointing to a pool of drying blood.

/

Drustan gave a solitary nod, sliding from his own position to the ground. As he spun his head round to assess the area, his small dark braids spun too. The braids, that showed his rank, whipped his face, but the boy paid no attention to his hair, flawlessly removing his sword from its place.  His hands shook, but he looked silently towards his Heda for a command.  After a moment Lexa looked back to the boy, then to Bellamy, pressing a finger to her lips.  
  
There was no telling what was in the woods, but this blood was fresh enough for the attacker, or injured, to be in the area.  The mud was thick beneath their feet, making moving a strenuous chore.  
  
 “Wolves.” Lexa whispered to herself as her fingers ghosted over a large paw prints in the wet mud.  
  
Wolves, if they had been angered, would accumulate in large packs that could take down an entire hunting team. Grounders had learned the hard way that it was best to ignore lone wolfs or those who travelled in small groups. Wolves had a system, that if one of them was hurt, neighbouring packs would be alerted to take down the culprit.  As a child Lexa had studied the animals, how they had great tactical skills of taking down predators and prey. Inspired by the creatures she had even formed battle plans; draw the enemy out by visuals of weakness, but waited nearby with a powerful army. Of course, at Mount Weather, Clarke had shown her she could also use a visual of strength to distract her enemy.

Tilting her head, she listened to the forest around her, but her ears picked up only on her companions shifting weight. The eerie silence that surrounded them was unsettling.  Lexa knew that the woods were never this quiet. With a deep breath she tried to swallow the feeling of dread, but the air’s strong taste of iron hit her tongue first.  Blood was clinging to the air, too fresh to not have a predator around them.  Wide green eyes flicked to the warrior, knowing he was beginning to realize the exact same thing.   


In a defensive stance she anchored her feet to the mud, protectively drawing her blade forward. Through the trees a humongous animal bounded its way towards them, allowing a shimmer of light to sparkle across her blade. Lexa silently watched as the beast, which had drunk in the effect radiation, ascended on Durstan.  
  
All it took was a second for them to be surrounded by wolves.

The wolves rose up from the cover of the trees, and fixed their malicious yellows eyes on their flesh. As they pounced, attacking with sharp fangs and razor claws, steam caked the air.  
  
Drustan swung his sword with quick, choppy, movement that occasionally missed their target, forcing him to kick through the mud.   
  
Lexa was performing better, moving as quickly as she could, with the mud sucking her further into its grasp.  The more she moved, the strong the mud became, but she kept an even pace. Quickly spinning, as she sliced her blade deep into one of the animal’s guts. She felt the pop of skin against her blade, before the spray of blood rained down over her. Another slice caused a low growl, as she got drenched in the sticky heat of slaughter.  Baring her own teeth, she barely acknowledged the coating of blood, only swiping across her eyes to ensure her vision would not be impaired.  As her sword was in the skull of the animal, she planned her next move, throwing a dagger at a wolf that Bellamy was battling with his bare hands. 

A moment of lull occurred as the wolves circled them in the darkness. There was too many of them to fight, as they tightening in on their small circle. Lexa’s muscles burned from her persistent fight against the mud, as she tried to think out an escape plan. While Drustan, to her left, took the moment to clutch a deep wound at his side.  Eventually, Lexa’s eyes landed on Bellamy who was loading his pistol, seeming only mildly cut and dishevelled. Lexa couldn’t understand why, but even facing danger she felt bitter that Bellamy had not been injured further.  She had expected him to be in the worst shape, but he seemed the most adapt for this type of fight.

The light was fading quickly, only a small glimmer of silver light trickling through the leaves above them.

The second wave of beasts streamed forward, and the trio continued to fight. Even with injuries they battled relentlessly. Having slayed so many wolves, Lexa lost her footing on a wolf corpse.  When the air was knocked out of her lungs, her head was reeling of ways to fight the last of the creatures. She fell backwards as Drustan’s sword flew into the side of the assailing animal.

“Faya!” Lexa screamed to Bellamy, as she hurled her weight out of the mud, rolling to stand on her feet. Springing forward, she leapt over a fallen horse to aid the man who just saved her life.  
  
“What?!” Bellamy yelled back, firing off another round that forced a smaller group of the wolves to flee.  Seeing her error, she drove her sword into the beast in front of her, “FIRE! WE NEED FIRE!” she screamed through heavy pants.  Lexa caught the man in her peripheral vision, but the glance made her heart fall heavy into her stomach.  Bellamy was fleeing, sprinted away from them, and shooting as he ran. Gritting her teeth, she nodded to herself, accepting her fate as she kicked a hurling beast that’s large claws swiped towards her.

“Heda, you have to run.” Drustan spat, firing his last arrow in the direction of Bellamy. Even if Lexa was to run, she would leave herself open for attack. It was then, that she knew, for the second time that day, she knew she was going to die.   
  
There was only a chance for Bellamy to get away. A coward was Clarke’s only chance.    
  


Drustan fell first, his last request burning into Lexa’s brain as she readied herself for her own last battle.  The creature in front of her was the only one to advance, the others lingering back, as if to give the beast the kill.  Lexa knew what animal this was, the alpha, and the one to face the grounders alpha. Her body pleaded for her to, make a break for the trees, but she forced herself to lock eyes with its watery yellow ones. Slowly to sum up courage she licked her lips, immediately tasting wolf blood on her lips and tongue. Snarling she immediately moved in an attack, but the beast dove for her arm. A scream broke from her lips as the animal bit through her leather coat, and the flesh beneath. The reached scream she let out was so foreign to her, that she was thankful no one would hear her die.

Searing hot punctures ‘caused a deep radiated pain to spread along her forearm. Blinded by the intensity of the sudden bite, she could do no damage with her sword. Her other arm was reduced to wild desperate jerks that missed its target by a mile. Still, even with her wild thrashing, the animal did not let go. The wolf increased its vice grip on her arm, lifting her off the ground. It loomed over her small body,ready to crush her.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HAPPY NEW YEAR!

**Author's Note:**

> I've never written anything long winded like this, nor do i find myself very good at grammar, spelling or writing. However, i do believe we all have to start somewhere. So, if you have any pointers or want to leave me a message... You can do so on tumblr (elfypelfy.tumblr.com) or on here. Lots of awesome love.  
> -Elfypelfy.


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